


Juggling Act

by kuwdora



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-05
Updated: 2009-08-05
Packaged: 2018-01-27 22:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuwdora/pseuds/kuwdora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re going to have to rein in your extracurricular activities sooner rather than later."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juggling Act

**Author's Note:**

> Written on the fly for [](http://cadesama.livejournal.com/profile)[**cadesama**](http://cadesama.livejournal.com/) 's day as CEO at [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=heroes_exchange)[](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=heroes_exchange)**heroes_exchange**. Vague spoilers for season 4, but nothing really specific that wasn't learned at the end of season 3.

Peter reached for his water glass with one hand while grabbing a bread roll with the other, trying not to let his agitation bubble to the surface. He loved his mother, but he was getting nauseous on her merry-go-round of manipulation.

“You’re going to have to rein in your extracurricular activities sooner rather than later. There’s much work to to be done. But then again, you’ve been too busy to notice,” she said, words crisp and clipped, laced with a vaguely affronted air. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Don’t start.”

“You don’t give me a choice,” she said, her lips pursed thin, but she sounded more tired, like she was rehearsing the dance steps she already knew. Peter met her eyes and tore the bread in half.

“What I do in my life and free time is up to me, but don’t you accuse me of not pulling my own weight. I’ve spent more time with Bennet in the last two months than I have with Nathan in _years_.” He haphazardly slathered the butter on the warm interior and took a bite.

“While I know how unfortunate it is for you to be separated for your brother, he’s where he needs to be and so are you. But I don’t want to see you beat yourself up when you’re forced to end commitments and obligations that you can’t keep. I know how attached you get.”

Peter chewed and swallowed slowly, not appreciating the edge in her tone. He took a deliberately long drink of his water and reclined back in his chair and listened to the trail of of piano notes that wafted through the restaurant.

“You know so much about me and yet you still can’t accept that I want to help people, even when I’m going out of my way to help the family, help The Company get back on it’s feet the way you and Bennet insist upon.” Peter shook his head and shrugged. He wasn’t sure what had prompted her latest disapproval, but he didn’t much care because he wasn’t going to let her control every facet of his life.

She folded her hands in her lap, eyes never wavering. She still thought she had the commanding stare that could coerce him into doing anything, but he wasn’t intimidated. Not anymore. Not after he survived explosions, bullets, time travel, the bald-faced lies of everybody he thought he trusted.

“How many runs do you make on the third shift? Mm?”

Peter frowned. His naiveté might have bled away with each bullet his body rejected, but he wouldn’t let himself forget who he was: someone who could _help_ and save lives in whatever way he could. Every run was important, whether it was two or twenty. “That doesn’t matter.”

“And what about all that time you spend at that women’s shelter?”

Peter blinked back his surprise. “Did you have a dream or were you having me followed the old fashioned way?

“That doesn’t matter,” she said and sipped her wine.

“It’s four hours a week,” he said, though it was clear that he didn’t need to point out what she already knew. He tossed his roll onto the serving dish and wiped his buttery fingers on his cloth napkin. “They like the extra help.”

“You shouldn’t spread yourself too thin, my dear.”

“I wasn’t asking for your advice.”

She reached for a roll and began slicing into it with the butter knife. “I hope you consider how much it will break those children's hearts when you get too busy to show up and color with them on the weekends.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t appreciate the amount of detail. “As much as you like to think it is, that’s none of your business. If you want to talk about _Business_ , then okay, let’s talk. But I’m done fighting with you about this.”

“Who’s fighting?”

“For ten seconds, please stop questioning my ability to shoulder responsibility so I can enjoy having dinner with you,” he said, attempting to stifle the exasperation in his voice.

“I’m surprised you even had a few hours to spare for your poor old mother. I suppose the orphans and soup kitchen will have to wait until after dessert.”

“Mom,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

She raised her chin slightly. “You’ll need to be able to drop everything when the time comes. You don’t know who you’ll meet or what’s going to happen.”

“I would if you’d tell me instead of trying to be my puppet master. The Company’s a family thing now. Communication and _trust_ is key,” he said.

The waiter arrived with their food and she eyed both their dishes approvingly. Peter didn’t bother to poke at his roast duck until she began unrolling her silverware to begin on her salmon.

“All I’m saying it’s not going to get easier, juggling your normal life with the new Company,” she said.

“Well, practice makes perfect,” he said with a wry grin.  



End file.
